


Mourned

by Sour_Idealist



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-31
Updated: 2019-01-31
Packaged: 2019-10-19 17:43:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17605958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sour_Idealist/pseuds/Sour_Idealist
Summary: In the caverns under Xhorhas, Nott learns how Yeza lived through losing her. Jester and Caleb help, in their ways.





	Mourned

**Author's Note:**

> This began as a fill for a Tumblr prompt asking for Nott/Jester/Caleb, but it very rapidly turned into... something else. Warnings for vomit, alcohol, and Nott's various and sundry issues; spoilers through Episode 49: A Game Of Names.

It happens in the tunnels under Xhorhas, curled around a tiny campfire that leaks smoke into the drafts of the underground. It starts when Yeza wraps the spare blanket tighter around his shoulders and asks, “So... how is it you knew Veth?”

Every set of eyes in the Mighty Nein flicks to Nott. Yeza, still holding his hands out to the fire, doesn't notice. Nott, all words drying in her throat, stares helplessly at her husband. Stares pleading at her friends.

“We were... captured by the same tribe,” Caleb says, into the desperate silence. “The same tribe as she was. We got to know her then.” Yeza's face goes pale.

“She was captured?” he asks, very quietly. “Did they – did they hurt her?” The last word echoes off the tunnels: _herherherherher,_ in dying whispers.

“She was super, super brave,” Jester says. “She slithered out of the cage where they kept us and she snuck around and got all the locks open and then she set everything on fire so we could get away, and –” Her eye lands on Nott. “And she got Nott to help us and be our friend, because she's super lovable and great.”

“She was that,” Yeza says softly. His mouth is very tight. “Is she – is she still alive?”

Once again, every single person looks to Nott. Nott wants a drink very, horribly badly.

“No,” she says. The word in her mouth feels faraway, numb. Yeza closes his eyes.

“I thought so,” he says, very quiet. “I would have known if Veth were alive.”

Nott does not move at all.

“She was a good woman,” he says, quiet. He's still shaken from the fighting; it's obvious. At least to her, because she knows him. “Lovely. I wonder – I feel like I moved on too fast, sometimes, but – Luke needs a mother, and Rissa's a good woman too, and –”

“You moved on?” Jester asks. “But – are you just like going on a couple dates with her, or is it getting kind of serious, or –”

“Engaged,” Yeza says, and a faint, distant smile crooks at the corner of his mouth. “And she was... she was away when the Krin attacked, she was visiting her grandmother, so she is – I know she is safe. At least I know she is safe.” He glances up, around them all. “I thought... Veth would have wanted me to be happy. She wouldn't have wanted Luke to grow up with just me. Right?”

Nott bites the inside of her cheek until black brackish goblin blood floods across her mouth, and says “Of course she would.” Her voice shakes a little. “She would have – she would have – absolutely, she would have wanted you to be happy. And for her, her, her –” All right, her voice shakes more than a little. “For her son to be happy. To have a mother who could be there.” Her face feels cold. So do her fingers. It's a numb, aching cold, the kind that sinks all the way to the bone. The soft, echoing cave-sounds are a little like the rush of a river.

“Are you okay, Nott?” Jester asks, inching a little closer.

“Fine.” Nott twitches her cloak higher around her shoulders. “I'm fine. It's really fine.”

“Maybe that's true,” Caleb says, low and very measured. Nott's head jerks up, but he's not looking at her. He's looking at Yeza, and his jaw is sharply set. “But that doesn't mean you should have moved on just because she would have wanted it. She was your _wife_ and the mother of your child, and she died because of you –”

“Hey now –” Yeza says, just as Nott tries to shout “Caleb!” The word leaves her mouth as little more than a whisper.

“She might have wanted you to be happy, but that doesn't mean you deserve to be happy after what you did to her,” Caleb grinds out, heavy and inevitable and slow, one hand wrapped around the scars of his wrist. “That doesn't mean you had a right to forget about her. She deserved – she deserves –” His eyes flick to Nott, motionless in the shadows.

“Listen here now, buddy,” Yeza says, shoving himself to his feet, iron in the softness of his voice. “I don't know what you think gives you the right to talk to me about my wife –”

“Nott, are you sure you're okay?” Jester cuts in, just as Nott sways forward and vomits everything she's eaten in the last day over the floor and the edge of Jester's skirt.

“I'm sorry,” she whispers, frozen, staring down at the disgusting mess. There's bits of rat floating in the muck. “I'm sorry, I –”

“I don't think you need to be sorry for throwing up, Nott,” Jester says, with awful gentleness. “Come on, let's get you away from this _stupid_ argument, okay.” And then her arms are around Nott, scooping her up; Nott could pull away, probably, but she doesn't. She fumbles her flask out of her belt enough to drink, alcohol sloshing over Jester's pretty blouse, and tries not to strain her ears for the sounds of argument behind her. The caves carry sound strangely; if they start up again, she can't quite hear it.

In a small and shadowed corner, Jester slides to the ground, Nott still held close in her arms. It's dark here; Jester's face is a gray shape at the corner of Nott's vision. Nott is still so cold.

“Nott,” Jester says, shaken and soft. “Nott. I'm so sorry.”

“It's –” Nott starts, and can't finish the sentence. Can't even think of the words. “It's, it's, it's –” The next indrawn breath turns into half a sob, and then another, and another, tearing through her like a physical thing. Jester's arms close tight around her.

“Shhh, shhh, Nott,” Jester says. “Sometimes you have to cry, it's okay. My mama told me that a lot, you know? It's okay to cry. Go ahead and cry.” Nott wants to point out that Jester absolutely does not take that advice, ever in her life, but she can't breathe enough to even begin to form the words. All she can do is shake apart, muffling her sobs in Jester's chest as they get high-pitched and close to screaming.

It doesn't last that long, all told; that's a relief, because the sobs hurt like birth pangs. She lifts her head from Jester's shoulder, wiping at her eyes. She's left snot on Jester's shirt, along with the alcohol, and the puke spattered on her skirt.

“Sorry,” she says, voice rough.

“Nott, shut up,” Jester says, and pulls her close again.

Footsteps echo through the caves; light bobs at the edge of her vision. Caleb, scowling as a stormcloud, his dancing lights bobbing furiously around him. They look like torches in a gale wind. Nott sits up, trying to wipe some of the mess off her face.

“Nott,” is all he says, dropping to his knees next to her. He doesn't say anything else, just opens his arms, a small hunch-shouldered gesture. Nott never wanted to be a burden on him, but she sways forward into his embrace, burying her face in his filthy coat. Jester's hand stays on her shoulder, steady and cool.

“That was a pretty stupid thing to say,” Jester tells Caleb.

“You didn't – don't be unkind to him,” Nott agrees, muffled in the curve of Caleb's neck. “He wasn't – he didn't – he thought I was dead. I _was_ dead. It's not his fault that I... came back.”

“I'm sorry,” Caleb says. “I just –” He lets out a shuddering breath. “I'm sorry.”

“We can kill this Rissa person, maybe,” Jester offers.

“No! No, no, let's not kill anyone.” Nott sniffs. “I don't want to do that to him. I just...”

“You're a really good person, Nott,” Jester says, very softly.

“Yes.” Caleb squeezes her, tight, his face buried in her hair.

“No, I'm not really...”

“Shut up,” Caleb says, and kisses the top of her head. There's a faint shift of the fingers on her back; Nott tilts her head, and realizes he's set his hand over Jester's on Nott's shoulder.

“Yeah, he's right,” Jester says solemnly. “You really are.”

Caleb bites his lip, shaking his head like he's trying to clear it. “I hope you know, Nott,” he says. “I hope you know that whatever happens, I will never – I would never forget you. If anything happened.”

“Okay but nothing's going to happen, though,” Jester says, bubbling and firm. “Nothing's going to happen, because _you're_ going to run really fast,” with a flick at Nott's shoulder, “and _you're_ going to use lots of really cool magic, and I'm going to heal you both _super_ good, and everyone's going to be fine. Right?”

“Yes,” Caleb says against Nott's hair. “Yes. You're going to be all right.” Softly, like the words are being dragged out of him, he adds, "We've got you." 

Nott closes her eyes and leans into their touch. 

 


End file.
